


take a dip

by orphan_account



Category: One Piece
Genre: (nothing graphic) - Freeform, Angst, Depression, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Just A Lot of Talking About Feelings, M/M, No Beta as Usual I'm Self-Destructive, One-Shot, Pre-Timeskip, hahaha this is my trademark now, so original ozzy!!!, whoawhoahwhoa more usopp angst from another characters perspective???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:08:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25002892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "It was only because he’d sat down and taken the time to know Usopp that Sanji had recognized this, had tried to teach himself the red flags and warning signs of a lie that mattered, but despite this, they managed to tiptoe right past him and slip through his mind, spill down his palm and between his fingers like water.In fact, Usopp’s real identity, in its whole actuality, was purely water to him: something he couldn’t catch, couldn’t slow down, couldn’t hold onto. Something he suspected he would drown in if he could pluck up the courage to jump into it."
Relationships: Usopp/Vinsmoke Sanji
Comments: 4
Kudos: 43





	take a dip

**Author's Note:**

> Totally rushed the end after having this sitting in my WIPs forever but uhh,,,,,anyway I'm still proud of this.

Sanji wasn’t one to worry about his boyfriend. 

He knew how strong Usopp was, how headstrong and tenacious he’d proven to be, and how brilliant of a problem solver he’d become. Sanji never felt any need to be concerned about his lover’s wellbeing, never felt any need to pry into his thoughts and loom over him, interrogate him when something struck the cook as odd, because he knew he didn’t have anything to worry about.

Or so he thought.

In the time he’d been dating the boy, Sanji had learned that Usopp was very good at acting, good at covering up his worries, and sorrows, and fears. Because of his exceptionality in dramatics, his phenomenally flowery and ostentatious character he’d accredited himself to truly, authentically being, his lies were only believed to be those that were too stagy to believe. His crew had become so accommodated to rolling their eyes at vibrant, boisterous fables, stories too big for his little, frail body, that when he choked out something his size they attributed it to being the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. 

It was only because he’d sat down and taken the time to know Usopp that Sanji had recognized this, had tried to teach himself the red flags and warning signs of a lie that _mattered_ , but despite this, they managed to tiptoe right past him and slip through his mind, spill down his palm and between his fingers like water. 

In fact, Usopp’s real identity, in its whole actuality, was purely water to him: something he couldn’t catch, couldn’t slow down, couldn’t hold onto. Something he suspected he would drown in if he could pluck up the courage to jump into it. He didn’t like the thought of drowning, he didn’t want to let something so beautifully crystalline and melancholic be the thing that consumes him, something so lost in its own being that it doesn’t notice him getting lost in it too, so he merely opted for avoiding it at all costs, swearing that he didn’t need to set foot in the water because there was nothing about the water that could possibly be of any sort of concern to him. 

He’s such a coward to think so. Even though it’s almost purely subconscious, he feels like such an idiot to think there’s nothing wrong with Usopp, his beautiful, wonderful water nymph, because there _is_ something wrong with Usopp, there’s _been_ something wrong with Usopp. It’s just so terrifying for him to consider that his love, in all his radiant confidence, could possibly be covered in those red flags that Sanji just couldn’t see. 

He’s able to get over it after a good cry, pull his head out of his ass to finally stick a toe in the pool and feel how cold it had become, and he starts putting the pieces of every single thing he’d missed while in his deep throes of denial together like an awful, miserable puzzle.

He notices first that Usopp’s eyes don’t shimmer like they used to, aren’t big and bright and full of wonder like an excited child’s. They’re as kind as ever, but just feel...empty, no matter how adorably shiny the accompanying smile he manages to muster happens to be. His stories aren’t as tremendous and intricate as they used to be either. He stumbles over his words as if he isn’t some sort of peerless storyteller; he stammers and stutters and gags on the anecdotes and confident assertions that get stuck in his throat. He shudders at his own voice, grimaces at his own lies. He’s beginning to look like his own worst enemy. 

This becomes clearer to Sanji in troubling ways, but he still doesn’t know how to intervene. He watches from the sidelines as Usopp wraps brightly colored bandages over self-inflicted bite marks riddling his knuckles, rolls long sleeves down to shroud scratches, nicks, and scrapes on his bony wrists and arms that he goes silent at the mention of. He shivers and trembles, wraps slim arms around his sickly body. He’s always been a scrawny kid, underweight for his size according to Chopper, but he looks dangerously macilent now, and the cook swears he’s getting thinner and thinner by the minute. 

The poor boy looks so frail, fighting himself, struggling under the weight of his own heavy being, and it takes Sanji a while to realize that no amount of kisses to his cracked lips or gentle coos of encouragement will heal him without first acknowledging the affliction he’s trying so terribly hard to heal, as well as his own debilitating afflictions.

First, when trying to understand the personal ailments holding him back from saving his boy, the cook recognizes the most painful thing he could possibly come to recognize: he’s not going to drown if he jumps in, he’s not the one doing the drowning at all, Usopp’s drowning in _himself_ . Then, he realizes that he’s the lifeguard here, and the _only_ lifeguard; he can save Usopp whenever he just pulls it together and puts both feet in the water. It’s only hard to gather his courage because he feels lost. The lake is so wide, and so deep, just thinking about it is overwhelming. If only somebody could give him a shove, or grab him by the ankle and drag him in…

“Usopp’s not in there.”

Robin’s soft, unfamiliarly doleful voice causes a shiver to wrack the man’s body, equally because of the words that she utters and her ominous tone. He pauses in front of his boyfriend’s personal “factory”, blinking at the fact that it is, in fact, lacking the presence of his boyfriend, as if he didn’t already know that by now. Sanji’s typically through the roof at the sound of the wonderful Robin-swan’s voice, but now’s absolutely not the time to swoon, he barely even has it in him to swoon anyway, so he offers a dry, “Where is he, ma’am?” 

The archaeologist sighs woefully, daintily pushing strands of hair behind her ears, and Sanji gulps in fear of the answer he’s going to be given. Is he too late? Has his love already drowned?

“He’s in the sick bay,” she finally answers, frowning as she watches the cook’s heart drop to the floor and shatter before she could even finish, “he passed out...on the lawn, maybe ten minutes ago. Chopper proposes that the response stemmed from dehydration and sleep deprivation.” 

“Is he...awake now?”

Robin shrugs with another gentle huff, “I’m not sure, I’d advise checking for yourself.” 

Sanji nods in concurrence and leaves far faster than he’d entered with an urgency to his steps. 

Usopp is, felicitously, awake, sporting his best imitation of a smile as Chopper scolds him for how much he’s neglected his health. Sanji wishes he could join in, hiss a few of his own distressed criticisms, but the blonde knows he must be careful with how he handles the current situation, so he instead sits at the end of the infirmary bed and places a comforting hand on his feeble lover’s knee. This accidentally provokes a nervous whimper from the shorter pirate, who gives Sanji a worried glance when he asks Chopper for some alone time, as if Sanji’s the one to be worried about right now. 

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing out of Usopp’s mouth when the room goes silent, a stiff chuckle failing to warm his sorrowfully gelid tone, “I-I guess...I guess I’ve been getting, uh, lost in my work-”

“Please stop lying, mon ange.” 

The fabulist seems shocked by the accusation, but somehow, whether he’s surprised he’s been caught or appalled by the allegation is...unclear, thanks to the furrow in his brow. 

“What? I’m not lying! Why would I lie about overworking myself, Sanji?” 

“I’ve seen you overwork yourself and it wasn’t even close to as...severe as this was! Look, okay, I don’t know why you’re doing this to yourself, or why you think-”

“What the hell are you going on about, hon?”

Sanji sighs, running a hand up through his tense boyfriend’s mess of curls and giving a taut frown when he flinches at the touch, “You’re endangering yourself. You’ve been slowly and subtly killing your body over days and weeks, a-and I didn’t...realize until now and I don’t actually know how long it’s been going on but...I just...I want to know why.”

His voice trembles at the acidity of the truth as he coughs it out, his fidgety fingers itching for a cigarette between them, a smoke to soothe his nerves. Usopp shows no mercy, though, his weak tone going from cold to utterly, agonizingly freezing. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Usopp, damnit, this isn’t the time for your stupid bluffs, I can see right through them.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Why can’t you just tell me why you hate yourself enough to-”

“Shut up! Shut UP!” Usopp shoots up from the bed, wobbling on his thin, exhausted legs, “I don’t know what you’re talking about! Please, just shut up!” 

He covers his eyes, shaking his head frantically, and Sanji feels a pang in his chest. He’s not trying to convince Sanji he’s fine or anything, he knows how easy it is to do that if he truly wishes. The kid’s convincing himself of something, of _everything_. Convincing himself he’s fine, he’s healthy, he has a right to bear his teeth like a frightened stray at the man who does nothing but love and trust him.

Convincing himself he isn’t already at the bottom of the lake.

Does Usopp not notice his current state? Does every mirror blur when he glances at it? Or is he so unfortunately stellar at spinning webs of lies that he’s gotten himself caught in one? 

The sniper is feverishly pacing in a circle, hands pressed firmly over his ears. Whatever question Sanji asks, he knows his lover won’t answer. He most likely doesn’t even have any answers anyway, considering how equally shocked and befuddled he seems by his own situation.

The cook scratches at his pockets impatiently, watching Usopp’s perfect circle of a path with hopes that he’ll tire himself out and give Sanji the chance to evaluate how he’ll handle the issue later, when his boyfriend’s not one completely correct accusation away from becoming completely unhinged. He doesn’t waver, though. He’s absolutely drained, but his steps don’t falter, not even once. How many times must he have done this to have a ring as unwavering and faultless as this? How often has he spiraled alone, tired and scared, desperate to convince himself that he’s okay? 

“I’m just...negative.”

Usopp finally falls to his knees, arms folded across his stomach like he’s going to throw up, which he might, considering how incredibly dizzy he must be.

“You know that isn’t what this is.”

“I just...no, really, it’s just insecurity a-and...guilt, and-” 

“Well, where do you think that all comes from?”

“I don’t...I don’t know. I don’t wanna know.”

Sanji carefully, quietly slips to the sniper’s side, wrapping a warm arm over his bony shoulders.

“I know it’s scary, mon cher amour. I know it’s scary to face your problems and give them names, because when you give things names you can’t un-name them.”

Usopp sniffles, offering an indistinct nod in hesitant agreement. 

“I-I don’t wanna be sick. I don’t wanna take pills and...and have people worry about me dying tomorrow or tonight or whenever they’re not looking.” 

“I worry about you dying when I’m not looking anyway.” 

Usopp throws his arms up frustratedly, consequently pushing Sanji’s comforting reach off his shoulders, “But you should only worry about me dying from something badass, I don’t want you worrying I’ll die because of myself!”

“Well you just got pretty damn close, I think I have a right to!”

They both breathe heavy sighs. Usopp collapses into his boyfriend’s outstretched arms, the two of them equally exhausted and afraid, just desperately needing to be close and warm again, desperately needing to come to a truce with one another so that they can _stay_ close and warm. 

“...I’m sorry I’m being stubborn,” the younger breathes, now calm and comforted by Sanji’s arms tightening around him.

“I forgive you, I know you’re just scared.”

“I don’t...I don’t want people to think I’m sad though! I’m supposed to be happy and playful and able to goof around with everyone!”

“You’re going to be able to, y’know, be that way, you just can’t push yourself to when you don’t feel up to it or you know it’s going to hurt you.” 

Usopp receives a gentle squeeze on the shoulder, which he tenses in response to, “I mean, yeah I...I guess? But...It’ll be hard to...well, what if I...all of this is just...”

He sighs, exhausted, riding the end of his ambition to argue. 

“...I think I might need some time away from everyone to figure out how I want to handle this. Just like some time isolated in the infirmary, y’know? I can’t...come to terms with everything after only, like, a single mental breakdown, I just need a couple more before I get it.”

“Can you at least promise me that you won’t have that persona back on the next time I see you? That I’ll be talking to my real, actual boyfriend whom I love no matter what state his mental health is in?”

The marksman chuckles gently, stretching when Sanji pulls his arm away to brush off his slacks, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I promise, ya dork.” 

“Where did the need for slander come from?!”

“You being a dork!”

They laugh, gleefully and lovingly wrapped in one another, then they begin to part, when Usopp suddenly grabs his boyfriend’s wrist before he can reach the exit. Startled, Sanji crouches back down to the younger’s level, who’s still reclining on the floor, and tilts his head to the side.

“Not ready to be alone?”

Usopp clears his throat, brow furrowed, “No, no, it’s not that, I just…” 

“I’ll wait.”

“...I love you. A lot. I don’t deserve your kindness when I’m stupid like this.” 

“I’m constantly stupid so it wouldn’t be fair to say you deserve me any less than I deserve you...”

He gives the sniper a soft peck on the cheek, lingering in place for a quiet moment to run his free hand up through the boy’s loose bundle of curls one last time for what he knows will feel like an unbearable eternity. Usopp settles into the touch, but fortunately doesn’t flinch when Sanji slowly pulls away, giving him a warm grin. 

“...And I love you too, mon lapinou. I’ll never not love you.” 

Usopp’s grip slides down the blonde’s arm, hesitant but not scared. He returns the smile, twice as kindly, and blows a kiss as Sanji, who lights a celebratory smoke as soon as he’s wholly bathed in the moonlight, leaves.

He did it. He swam to the bottom of the pool, he pulled the plug, and well, it’s not drained but it’s...it’s getting there and he helped with that. He did it, and now nobody’s going to spiral alone, or wear themselves to the bone out of pure self-deprecation, or lurk in the corners, too overwhelmed and idiotic to stop any of this, too paralyzed by their overwhelming concerns. Nobody’s going to suffer alone, and everybody’s safe. 

Now, if he could just take a moment to wring his soaked clothes out, then they could finally bid adieu to this shallow little pond.


End file.
